


It was a comet

by Smalls



Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Character(s), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8810224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smalls/pseuds/Smalls
Summary: The boy saw a comet and suddenly his life had meaning





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work has no fandom affiliations. This is just a short blurb that I wanted to publish. It work was inspired by this quote by Lucas Scott:  
> “It was a comet. The boy saw the comet and he felt as though his life had meaning. And when it went away, he waited his entire life for it to come back to him. It was more than just a comet because of what it brought to his life: direction, beauty, meaning. There are many who couldn't understand, and sometimes he walked among them. But even in his darkest hours, he knew in his heart that someday it would return to him, and his world would be whole again... And his belief in God and love and art would be re-awakened in his heart. The boy saw the comet and suddenly his life had meaning.” 
> 
> Please acknowledge the suicide tag. This is not a happy story.

The boy sat alone in his room. It was late. He should have gone to bed hours ago. Tomorrow was a big day, an important day. At least, it was supposed to be. Now, he dreaded the morning and what the day would bring. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face all those people. He didn't want to stand in front of them and smile. To pretend everything was okay. To act happy about his achievement. And what achievement? What was so great about moving forward if he had no idea where he was going? He was lost. He had no purpose, no meaning, no motivation. He felt so weary, weighed down by the burdens tomorrow would bring. Burdens he was not ready to bear. Not strong enough to bear it. The boy took a shuddering breath and tried to hold back tears. But he was not strong enough. He was a coward, a lost coward who was too weak to hold back tears. Who was too weak to carry on. 

He held his father's pistol in his hand, feeling its familiar weight. He had done this several times throughout the last year. Just cradling it. It was comforting.

Sometimes, on rough days, he held it to his head.

Not firing, just imagining. Pretending he had control over his life, over anything. Sometimes, on even harder days, he pulled the trigger. It was never loaded, of course. He just liked hearing the click. It soothed him. 

Tonight, though, was different. The boy didn't want comfort, he wanted relief. Carefully, almost tenderly, he loaded the chamber. One bullet is all it would take. One bullet. He was one bullet away from relief. The boy held the gun and looked out the window. If he was to die tonight, he wanted the stars to be the last thing he saw. 

"Please!" He begged the sky. "I can't do this any more! There's nothing for me! I have no future to achieve, no reason to live, no person to hold me here. I don't want the emptiness anymore! Give me a reason to stay!"

But the night sky remained silent. It granted no words of wisdom nor glorious purpose. The boy wept openly. He had nothing left. He lifted the gun. 

Then there was a flash of light.

The boy looked to the window in wonder. It was a comet. The boy saw the comet and suddenly he felt as though his life had meaning. It lit up the sky for a moment before disappearing but it was enough. It was a reason to stay. He lowered the pistol. It would no longer serve a purpose to him. He climbed into bed. He still did not feel ready for tomorrow, but now he had a reason to wake up. He wanted to see the comet again. He needed to see it again. 

Because it wasn't just a comet. It was more than a comet because of what it brought to his life: direction, beauty, meaning. It sounded crazy but the boy knew in his heart that someday the comet would return to him, and his world would be whole again. And his belief in God and love and art would be re-awakened in his heart. The boy saw the comet and suddenly his life had meaning. 

Years passed. The boy was now a young man. But he still felt hopeless. Every night, he would go to the window and wait. Wait for the comet that had saved his six years ago. But it never came. 

There were many who couldn't understand. His roommate didn't understand. 

"Let me get this straight. You're looking for a comet you saw six years ago?! It crashed, bro! It's gone! You're wasting your life staring out a window, looking for something that isn't there! You're gonna go nuts!" 

His parents didn't understand either.

"Sweetie, isn't it getting late? Why don't you go to bed? I don't think you're going to see anything tonight. It's a bit childish anyways, don't you think? Waiting up all night for a comet? It was a long time ago. I mean it could have been an airplane you saw. Go to bed, honey." 

Yes, there were many who couldn't understand, and sometimes he walked among them. But he would not forget. He knew what he saw. He stopped visiting home and ignored his roommate. They didn't understand. He wasn't crazy or childish. He had hope. He had a comet. A comet that would save him and show him light even in his darkest hours. So every night, he looked for the comet. Because it would return to him. He knew it would. 

Many more years passed. The young man grow into a adult. After school, he took a job at a planetarium, hoping to pursue his only interest. He led tours during the day and studied the sky at night. His coworkers thought he was strange, but he did his job well. Often they would ask him what he did all night.

"I watch the sky," he would say. 

"What are you watching for?" they would ask.

"My comet," was always the answer. 

Yes, they found him to be very strange, but the man did not care. Life was still bleak. And there were still days when he went home to his lonely apartment and longed for his pistol. After he left home, he bought his own. Just in case. He just wanted to hold it once more and be comforted. But it didn't comfort anymore. The only hope came from the comet. The comet was a promise. It was a future. It was a purpose. He didn't need anything else as long as he held on to his comet. And he held onto it for years. It was all he had.

Many more years passed, each one longer than the last.  He became obsessed. He was getting older. Time was running faster. Life was growing colder. And the comet was getting farther. Every night, the man searched the stars, praying he would find his comet amidst the heavens. But he couldn't. The comet had become distorted. Once a symbol of hope, a sign of life, a glimpse of the future. Now a crumbling  belief, an inevitable dead end, a hopeless loop. He never married or had a family. He couldn't focus on anything but his comet. He often lay awake at night, tossing and turning. He was lost, entangled in childhood dreams and life's realities. He had nothing, nothing but a hopeless dream. 

Tonight, though, he felt a sliver of hope. He was dying. He was an old man and had lived a long, albeit lonely, life. He had regrets, what man didn't, but he was ready. The man laid alone in his dark hospital room. He had come full circle. Life was purposeless and, once again, he had no desire to continue. The old man was still the same boy, longing for the relief only death could bring. He had given up. His comet wasn't coming. There was nothing left for him. His doctors told him it was just a matter time, days at most. The man didn't mind. He was ready for it to end. He looked to his window. The nurses always kept the curtains open.

"It must get boring," they often commented. "Being in here all alone. At least this way the sky can keep you company." 

The thought made him laugh. It had been some time since the sky had been a source of comfort. Now it mocked him and his dying hope. But on some nights, the sky did provide distraction, even if it was a painful one. 

This was not such a night. The man didn't want a distraction; he wanted relief. Those thoughtful nurses were idiots. When they looked at him, they saw a dying old man. They saw their sweet elderly grandfather, and turned a blind eye. They didn't see the helpless boy still trapped inside. They didn't see the hopelessness in his eyes. And they didn't see his desire for death. So they certainly didn't know about the gun he kept hidden in the top drawer of his side table. 

He reached for it now, cradling the familiar friend. He smiled. Tonight was the night. He was going to do what he should have done all those years ago. He had been an idiot. There was no hope, no greater meaning, no god, no...nothing. The comet was a beautiful lie that could provide nothing. But the gun. The old man looked at it lovingly. The gun could provide freedom. He raised the gun to his head slowly and looked out the window.

"Here we are again, old friend," he called in a weak voice. "It's just you, me, and the gun. It feels like it was just yesterday. But it's been years and I'm afraid there's no changing my mind tonight. But you're more than welcome to watch the show." He waited, but the sky didn't utter a word in reply. He laughed to himself. The sky was always been a silent companion, why should things be different now? He nodded respectfully to the window.

"Goodbye, old friend."

BANG!

The man fell back, lifeless in his hospital bed. A few minutes later, a nurse ran into the room and screamed. Another few minutes and the doctor arrived. The doctor removed the gun from the dead man's hand as the nurse cried quietly. The medical staff went about their grim task of removing the body, paying no mind to the window. Or the night sky. Or the comet that happened to be passing by. 


End file.
